


What Might Have Been

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: F/M, Home before 12, Midnight, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was only a girl, not a princess and that much was clear, if only to her, as she stood beside the friendly apprentice (who now seemed to be a prince), gazing at a portrait of him hung on the wall beside those of his royal relatives. It was flattering, to put it mildly, and he looked so very regal in the regimental uniform displayed it took her breath away. She seemed so insignificant beside him, an orphan girl who talked to mice and birds and was only here because of the happy appearance of a Fairy Godmother. Ella wasn’t even entirely convinced that she had existed, that this was not just a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Might Have Been

She was only a girl, not a princess and that much was clear, if only to her, as she stood beside the friendly apprentice (who now seemed to be a prince), gazing at a portrait of him hung on the wall beside those of his royal relatives. It was flattering, to put it mildly, and he looked so very regal in the regimental uniform displayed it took her breath away. She seemed so insignificant beside him, an orphan girl who talked to mice and birds and was only here because of the happy appearance of a Fairy Godmother. Ella wasn’t even entirely convinced that she had existed, that this was not just a dream.

She was there, however, and he was there also, Kit - His Royal Highness, she meant - the apprentice monarch that had made her feel as if the world was full of beauty once again. When he was an apprentice, however, her feelings for him had been so much more simpler. Now, Ella knew them to be improper and ought to never be mutual. She was - as he phrased it - a good honest country girl, with no chance of overruling a ‘poor soldier’ (as he named himself). For propriety’s sake, she shouldn’t even be making eye contact with him, should in fact be bowing before him and watching (from the side) him dance with a beautiful and mesmerising princess from another land. It was all far too much, really. The dress, the hair, the shoes, the carriage, and the Prince… 

When he lead her out into the garden, she knew they should return at once to the ball. She knew not of his feelings, but her own were gaining far too much momentum for any good to come of it and so when he had replied that he would rather not return, knowing he would have to dance with a woman of their choosing - Ella didn’t ask as to whom ‘they’ were - she had taken time to answer. 

“Sometimes their choice is the best recommended for a reason, I suppose.” Was Ella’s pale response, feeling simpler as each syllable passed her lips. “They do happen to be in charge for a reason.” Just how her stepmother was in charge for a reason, just how it was best for Ella to be treated so horribly - because Madame Tremaine considered it necessary. Everything she was saying was wrong, and not her. 

“Perhaps you are right.” Kit agreed, but his voice was faint and there was disappointment in his tone. That disappointment hit Ella hard, harder than many of her stepmothers blows, and she instantly regretted saying so. Was it directed at her? Was he disappointed i her for supposedly thinking such things? It was the pressure of the evening. So much was going on, so much could have happened and so much could have gone wrong. She was not meant to be here, she was not meant to have left the manse. Still, Ella found his disappointment intolerable. “Would you prefer we return, Your Highness?”

“It is more proper, isn’t it?” In all honesty, Ella knew nothing of what was proper and what was not - nor did she care, really - and she desperately wanted to remain with him and him alone until midnight, at least. And so they returned to the crowded ballroom, to the chaotic flicker of candlelight and the shine of jewel encrusted headpieces and gowns.

True to his word, as soon as they made a reappearance the Grand Duke hurried Kit - His Royal Highness, indeed she must remember that - away to dance with the Princess Chelina, paying no attention to Kit’s objections or Ella’s very existence. She had never felt more a simple, common girl with nothing more than a few rags to her name when Ella watched the man she loved twirl about the room with the living and breathing definition of attractiveness. She was lost in a sea of bright lights, of loud noises and strangers that moved far too swiftly for her to keep track of all the bustle. Ella well and truly did not belong there. 

No one noticed the girl the Prince had been infatuated with follow a servant passing through, out into the halls and down into the kitchens (Ella had always been a quiet mover, but now with her mere presence enraging her stepmother she had become especially proficient in walking silently, her glass slippers and enormous dress becoming only small hinderances). Not a single pair of eyes saw the said Mystery Princess clamber into her coach as the clock struck ten, or the reptilian looking footmen sighing with her at the impossibility of the whole idea. 

She was but a servant girl, not a princess. Kindness and courage failed to make anyone special, the world had proven that to her tonight. Besides, the Prince was better off dancing with the Princess of Zaragoza. Whether or not Ella’s apprentice friend was better off with Princess Chelina by his side was another matter, and highly debatable, but Ella did not see the point in reviewing the conclusion.

Ella had found herself back at the manse by eleven o'clock, shimmering in her dream of a ball gown and eyes damp from wishful thinking and regret. She should have enjoyed it while it lasted, on second thoughts. Should have played along with the farce, should have spent the time with Kit in the ethereal Royal Gardens. Nothing more would have come of it had she remained there, had she not allowed the realisation she was falling in love with the Prince - or a prince, rather - hit her so hard. Yes, she was a worthless country girl doomed to nothing but serving until her service was no longer wanted, but that did not mean she did not at least deserve a few hours with someone who was kind and brave and kind, most importantly kind, in a world where kindness was frowned on and laughed at. Her apprentice monarch was kind in a world that considered kindness and mercy interchangeable with weakness, and she had not faced adversary as great as that. 

Ella had sat on the steps outside her home, waiting for midnight and for all to be as it once was, occasionally speaking with Mr Lizard and Mr Goose. When it began to rain she retreated indoors, and was soon greeted by her stepfamily’s return. All they spoke of was how perfect the Prince had looked with the Princess Chelina on his arm, how none had surpassed her beauty - not even the attention seeking social climber that had stolen the first dance with His Highness, who had been quietly escorted off the premises as repercussion for her antics. Ella waited until she was safe in her attic before letting the tears embrace her, with the understanding that Kit was most certainly to wed the Princess Chelina. 

Kit did not love her, did not like her even, but the woman he did love was lacking in identification, it seemed. What was he to say? Might the woman I danced with at the ball please stand forward so I may marry her? He had danced with many ladies after his Mystery Princess had disappeared into thin air, and not many of which he cared for. If only he had a way to find her, a name was preferable but an item of clothing would have done, a ring, a bracelet, a sash or a ribbon - heavens! A shoe would have been enough! Alas, he was not quite so fortunate and resigned to marrying the princess of their choosing, by all means a spiteful woman he hd no doubts he would grow to detest, a warmonger, an ambitious warmonger with a taste for gossip and a flare for undermining insults. A delightful lady to spend time with, the Grand Duke assured. 

All Ella had left to remember the night was a pair of glass slippers that did not represent anything more than the regret and longing she suffered from every time she saw them, the ache that she felt when someone mentioned Prince Christopher - and later King Christopher. They weren’t magical souvenirs that told a fairytale, they only reminded of her of what might have been.


End file.
